Howls Of Mother Earth

The nadir-ward incisions that you make,

Now and always,

On my frail body –

Of your own making –

To live better, longer,

Shudders me to think

How long I can nourish you!

The avant badge of honour

That you aim to usurp

For your region –

A part of me you earmarked

For a petty reason –

By rampant deforestation and

Rash coercion of my resources

Is but a merciless mirage

That shall earn you

The cosmic enmity.

The air that you breathe,

The water that you drink,

The food that you eat,

The place below your feet –

All that's mine.

Yet, you have the audacity

To torment me, my cosmos!

Mend your ways to

Fend yourself from

The looming doom.

Else, the epilogue isn't far off!